The Legend of Bagger Vance: a movie review

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One of my favorite movies of all time centers on the game of golf, which has never interested me.  It is not about golf, however.  As Roger Ebert said in his review, “It is the first zen movie about golf.”  The Legend of Bagger Vance (2000) was directed by Robert Redford and stars Will Smith in the title role, Matt Damon, and Charlize Theron.

Rannulph Junuh (Damon) is a promising golfer whose girlfriend, Adele (Theron) is the daughter of a wealthy and prominent family in Savannah, Georgia.  Junah, the golden boy, has everything going for him until, as a captain in the first world war, his entire company dies in battle.  Though he wins the medal of honor, when Junah returns home, he lives in the shadows for a decade, as a drunk, abandoning everything from his former life.

In 1930, in an effort to recover the family fortune, Adele organizes an exhibition tournament between Bobby Jones and Walter Hagen, the most famous golfers of the era, at an extravagant golf resort her father built just as the depression struck.  To try to generate local interest, she asks her estranged boyfriend, Junuh, to play.  Junuh can barely hit a straight shot when the mysterious Bagger Vance (Smith) literally steps out of the night and announces he will be Junuh’s caddy.

Vance and Junuh

Vance and Junuh

Bagger Vance becomes a mentor in every sense of the word, helping Junuh recover his “own authentic swing,” a metaphor for recovering an authentic life.

The movie did not do well at the box office, and critical opinion was mixed.  Though Roger Ebert gave it 3 1/2 stars, George Perry of the BBC called it “pretentious piffle,” and Dana Stevens, writing in the New York Times said, “it’s central premises are so banal and dubious as to border on offensiveness.”  Such a reading results from failing to understand that the movie’s genre is mythological, and Bagger Vance is a spiritual guide.

When the movie was released, director, Robert Redford, spoke of the “spiritual journey.” In one interview said he believed in “mythology as a foundational storyline,” and in Bagger Vance, the image of losing and finding one’s “authentic swing,” meant losing and recovering one’s soul.

The theme was close to my own heart.  Nine years earlier, I’d finished a psychology masters thesis on “Imaginal Guides,” but when the movie came out, I felt my corporate work milieu threatened my own soul.  Part of the problem, I think, confronts us all, as the mythical/imaginal dimension of our collective psyche has collapsed.  Events, which once were woven into stories and ballads, become the stuff of headlines and clips on Entertainment Tonight, which are no more nourishing to the soul than yesterday’s tweets.

Redford came “from a big family of storytellers,” which led him to “place value…on mythological story lines because they’re the most solid and they usually have moral and rich characters and a simply told story. And [Bagger Vance] had that…a wonderful, simple, mythological story. A classic hero’s journey.”  

The fact that the movie didn’t have more success may say more about our “entertainment culture” than about the film itself.  Watch this clip, and if it resonates, you are sure to enjoy the movie.

Notes on spies, cowboys, and heroes.

I’ve done some car travel recently, and that is my favorite time to listen to audio books.  This time I picked a spy novel by a popular author I hadn’t read before.  I’ll discuss the specifics when I finish the story, but it sparked some new thoughts on a subject that I’ve written about before:  heroes, antiheroes, and how they change with the times.

As a teenager, I loved reading James Bond novels and probably finished all 11 books that Ian Fleming wrote between 1952 and his death in 1964.  In the novels and early movies, 007 was confident and competent in every area of life, including protecting a world in which good and evil were clearly defined.  That wasn’t just the fantasy of an adolescent male; Fleming’s huge popularity suggests that Bond embodied much of the cultural dream of the early cold war era.

Sean Connery and Ursula Andress in "Dr. No," the first Bond movie, 1962

Sean Connery and Ursula Andress in “Dr. No,” the first Bond movie, 1962

Fleming’s first novel, Casino Royale, was published in 1952, just seven years after the end of World War II, a conflict in which the author served as a naval intelligence officer.  There was little moral ambiguity in Fleming’s world or in his novels.  How different that is from the latest Bond movie, Skyfall, 2012, where moral clarity is scarce, and the adversary of British Intelligence is one of their own, gone rogue.

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Daniel Craig makes a good Bond but has little time to exhibit all of Sean Connery’s gentlemanly skills.  This 21st century Bond is too busy killing people to worry about whether his drinks are stirred or shaken.

I’ve watched more westerns than spy movies, so that’s where I’ve seen the changing dynamic of heroes with greatest clarity.  Yet I begin to sense a parallel progression in both genres.   Using westerns as examples, I think we can identify three types of protagonists:

The Hero:  He (it’s always “he” in this kind of western) fights for a righteous cause, greater than himself.  In John Ford’s classic Fort Apache, John Wayne may feel for the Apaches, and thrash the corrupt trader who sold them whisky, but they still have to go back to the reservation.  It’s manifest destiny – the American way.

Fort Apache, 1948

Fort Apache, 1948

The Anti-hero:  Though the term dates from the 18th century, Clint Eastwood’ westerns pushed it into the popular lexicon.  There are no grand causes in these movies, just the gritty play of good and evil, but there is still room for the stranger – or in one of my favorites, Pale Rider, 1985, “the Preacher” –  to lend his aid, and especially his skill as a gunfighter, to those he finds deserving.

Clint Eastwood as Preacher in "Pale Rider."

Clint Eastwood as Preacher in “Pale Rider.”

The Non-hero:  This protagonist may be sympathetic, but should not bear the title of “hero,” with its implication of honor.  He’s the winner who gets to write the history, and that may be his only claim to moral high ground.  In Unforgiven, 1992, Clint Eastwood plays William Munny, a widower who has tried to give up killing and drinking.

"Deserving's got nothing to do with it," says  Munny in "Unforgiven

“Deserving’s got nothing to do with it,” says Munny in “Unforgiven”

Unfortunately, he’s failing in his new trade as a pig farmer, so to raise money to support his kids, he takes one more job as a hired killer: to take revenge on two cowboys who disfigured a prostitute.  The body count is a higher than two when the movie ends with an epilogue saying Munny is rumored to be in San Francisco and prospering in the dry goods trade.

***

So why does this matter?  I’ll have more to say on this in my next post, but for now, a couple of ideas that come to mind are:

– In the movies I’ve highlighted, we see the concern of characters shrinking from the common good to narrow self-interest.  This is a trend we see echoed in headlines every day.

– What do we mean when we call someone a “hero?”  Do we actually bestow the name, or is it most often done for us by various outside agencies, usually of the government or the entertainment industry?

– When is the last time we heard the great story that Joseph Campbell identified as the “monomyth?”   “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.”

I’ll have other reflections to add to this in the next post.

Stardust: a movie review

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One day while Neil Gaiman was driving in England, he noticed a wall by the side of the road and imagined Faerie on the other side. He conceived the story of an American author visiting Britain who would discover the wall. Shortly after this, on the night he received a literary award, Gaiman saw a shooting star, and the idea for Stardust was born.

Stardust was first released as an illustrated series in 1997 and then as a novel in 1999, which won an award from the Mythopoetic Society.  A movie version in 2007 received favorable reviews.  After my recent review of Gaiman’s 2013 novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, I realized I’d never seen the Stardust movie.  It’s available for rent on iTunes, and I highly recommend it.

Stardust gives us the wall, a wonderful metaphor for much of human culture, erected to keep us out of Faerie, the realm of imagination, heightened emotion, wonders, terrors, true love, and our true selves.

Responsible citizens don't cross the wall.

Responsible citizens don’t cross the wall.

Tristan Thorn (Charlie Cox), a young man who lives in the town of Wall, is a classic dummling.  He’s a klutz who can’t keep a job and is infatuated with Victoria, a girl who won’t take him seriously and whose finance delights in tormenting him.  Yet Tristan’s father, who has been over the wall, says that might be a good thing – most people who find it easy to fit in “lead unremarkable lives.”  Then he tells Tristan the secret of his birth on the other side of the wall.

Tristan and Victoria see a shooting star fall into Faerie.  Still infatuated, Tristan vows to bring the star back to win her hand in marriage.  He forces his way through the wall to begin his search, but he is not the only one who saw the star.

The murderous sons of a dying king in the realm of Stormhold set off to find the star when their father vows that the one who finds it will be his heir.  And Lamia (Michelle Pfeiffer), senior member of a trio of witches joins the hunt – when stars fall to earth, the witches cut out their hearts and eat them, a little at a time, to preserve their youth and beauty.

Tristan reaches Yvaine the star (Claire Daines) first. Still intent on winning the hand of Victoria back in Wall, he uses a Faire chain to compel her to follow him.

Yvaine and Tristan

Yvaine and Tristan

At first they bicker constantly, but their time on the road and helping each other survive attempts on their lives creates a bond of friendship and finally love between them. Ever the dummling, Tristan is the last to realize this, but is helped when he finds a mentor.  Robert De Niro, in a virtuoso role as Captain Shakespeare, the gay captain of a flying steampunk pirate ship, teaches Tristan to fight, Yvaine to dance, and with a parting gift of  wisdom, whispers to Tristan, “She is your true love.”

Captain Shakespeare at the helm

Captain Shakespeare at the helm

As with any good dummling story, the ending of Stardust will leave you happy.  Though rooted in the sensibility of a modern coming of age tale, with elements of character development that the old traditional stories lack, Stardust fits Tolkien’s paradigm of the classic fairytale – the wonders and terrors we mortals encounter when we venture into other worlds.

Faerie whispers to us in sunlight, in starlight, and in our dreams.  Those intimations may be what make us most truly human.  No wonder we have an endless appetite for wonder tales, and Stardust is one that thoroughly satisfies.

Despicable Me 2

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In this year of superheroes and sequels, with intrusive digital effects everywhere you turn and an actor who should know better wearing a stupid dead crow on his head, it is July and I’ve been to the movies exactly twice.

I had the most fun at Despicable Me 2, and was delighted to find it a beautifully crafted film.  If you’ve been waiting…and waiting…and waiting some more for a movie worth venturing out to the cineplex, the drought has lifted with this one.

Disclaimer:  I get nothing in return from anyone for writing this review, but I’m still sort of hoping that karmic forces, somehow and somewhere may award me a minion or two for my efforts.  Come on – wouldn’t you like a few of the happy little guys to do the chores around your home?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwXbtZXjbVE

You know you would…

Super 8: a movie review

Super 8 poster

Even if you didn’t know that Steven Spielberg was involved in the production of Super 8, 2011, you would think of him and the parallels to ET, 1982.  Both movies appeal to all ages, but center on the courage, creativity, and compassion of young people.  Best case, the adults need to be reminded of what really matters; worst case, these are the things they oppose.  Spielberg sat on the storytelling committee with director, J.J. Abams, and helped produce Super 8.  The film won numerous awards and nominations, for its special effects and the two young stars, Joel Courtney and Elle Fanning.

It is 1979 as the film opens.  Fourteen year old Joe Lamb (Courtney) mourns the death of his mother in a factory accident.  His father, Deputy Jack Lamb, blames the father of his son’s friend, Alice Dainard (Fanning), since his wife was working the shift of the elder Dainard, out with a hangover, when she died.

Meanwhile, Joe’s friend, Charles, is making a super 8 zombie movie for an international competition.  He enlists Alice as the love interest in the film, and she and Joe are soon smitten with each other.  One night they sneak out to film a scene at the station against the backdrop of a passing train.  As the camera rolls, a pickup drives onto the track and causes a major derailment.  The pickup’s driver, Dr. Woodward, their biology teacher, is badly injured, but pulls a gun and warns them to forget all they’ve seen or their parents will be killed.  As the kids drive away, an Air Force convoy arrives to secure the scene.  The convoy leader, Colonel Nelec, discovers a super 8 film cassette and sets out to find whoever made it.

Things in town start to get weird.  All the dogs run away to the next county.  Electronic devices begin to disappear.  All the engines in all the cars at a local dealership are stolen overnight.  Nelec’s forces surround the town and begin knocking at doors.  Joe and Charles sneak into Dr. Woodward’s house and discover why he was trying to derail the train.

There are plenty of nail-biting moments, and when things come out right in the end (you never really doubt it in this kind of movie), we get to see Charles’ zombie production, which is a charming ode to amateur movie making and the creativity of young people

Super 8 is well worth a viewing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqt9L4fIExA

Sleepless in Hollywood by Lynda Obst

Have you been to the movies lately?  Like what you see?  Wonder if it’s a trend?

Today’s edition of Marketplace clued me in on the answer to question three via an interview with Hollywood insider Lynda Obst, producer of The Fisher King and Sleepless in Seattle.  Obst realized something had changed when her son said, “Mom, trying to get movies made because they’re good is so 2003.”  The interview concerned her new book, Sleepless in Hollywood:  Tales from the New Abnormal in the Movie Business.  

sleepless in hollywood

Obst says the “old abnormal” was when she could get movies made because they were good.  DVD sales financed half of studio profits and allowed production of the “smaller” movies she loves, like romantic comedies.  Then domestic DVD sales tanked at the same time as foreign viewership rose, particularly in China and Russia, where there’s an endless demand for our blockbusters and special effects.  You can make “small movies” anywhere in the world, she says, but so far, you can only make blockbusters here.

Which may explain why I’ve been to so few movies this year – when the trailers assault my senses with digitized special effects, I tend to give them a miss, with the exception of movies like Star Trek, because…well, it’s Star Trek.

Sleepless in Hollywood is now in my book queue, in part because Obst’s final chapter is called, “Does the future have a future?” and I want to know her answer to the question.

And a final note on 2013 movies to date – they’ve finally pushed us into the 21st century, with a subscription to Netflix, so there is at least one happy outcome.

Data-mining for Screenplays

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‘“It’s the movies that have really been running things in America ever since they were invented. They show you what to do, how to do it, when to do it, how to feel about it, and how to look how you feel about it.” – Andy Warhol

I had planned to continue discussing the story of Jorinda and Joringel from the Brothers Grimm, but a pair of articles I saw on successive days suggested a compelling interlude.  We’ll return to the forest shortly.

The first article, “Big data,” outlines ways that new software and methods can identify structures in parts of the oceans of data that retailers and governments have not been able to access before.  Everyone knows that advertisers target us based on our Facebook likes.  Now there are ways to do the same with the photographs we post and other aspects of our online behavior.  New algorithms find new patterns in all our activities, online and off.  This includes the movies we pay to watch.

The second article appeared in the May 5 New York Times, “Solving Equation of a Hit Film Script, With Data.” In it, Brooks Barnes writes about Vinny Bruzzese, a highly paid script consultant, who charges up to $20,000 for a sophisticated analysis of a screenplay in terms of past box office performance.  Bruzzese, a former statistics professor, can tell you which sort of demons do best in horror films and warn you that bowling alley scenes are a hallmark of low-grossing movies.

Though Bruzzese’s services are still too taboo for most movie people to cop to, Barnes says studios have hired him to analyze at least 100 scripts, including an early version of Oz the Great and Powerful.  Meanwhile, Scott Steindorff, who produced The Lincoln Lawyer said, “Everyone is going to be doing this soon.  The only people who are resistant are the writers.”

“This is my worst nightmare,” says Ol Parker, who wrote the script for The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.  “It’s the enemy of creativity…It can only result in an increasingly bland homogenization, a pell-mell rush for the middle of the road.”

I wonder if there is a greater nightmare lurking for writers like Parker – not just computer driven analysis, but computer driven generation of screenplays?  I’m certain it’s possible.

First of all, interactive online books have been around for some time.  Secondly, I’ve seen how this works in the field of computer graphics.  My day job involved microchip design automation, starting over 15 years ago – chips helping to draw the next generation of chips.  But what really convinces me that elements of screenplays could be synthesized is a computer generated astrological profile I ordered on whim last winter.

I plugged in my birthdate, place, time and, paid $50.  Sixty seconds later, I was reading a 20 page, Jungian-style analysis of my natal chart, that was uncanny in describing my relationship with parents, among other things.  It’s not that hard to understand how it is possible.  The Sun in Aquarius, at one degree, forty-four minutes, in the second house, has a defined meaning.  Assemble text to match the possibilities, and the rest is just number crunching.  A literary outline would have fewer data points.

Colonel Mustard in the library with a wrench, for those who remember Clue.

Or this.  Pick your genre – teenage slasher movie.  Choose setting (urban, suburban, rural).  Choose decade.  Chose your villain (insane human, mutant, supernatural creature).  Choose your hero (I’ll go with brainy nerd who has a congenital limp and can’t get a date for the prom).  Choose the hair color of a cheerleader he will rescue.  Finally, pick a screenplay structure (Save the Cat), add any notes, and hit send.  A few minutes later, you’ve got your outline and pitch, with no hint of a bowling scene.

Oh brave new world!  Andy Warhol saw it coming 50 years ago when he said, “Some day everybody will just think what they want to think, and then everybody will probably be thinking alike; that seems to be what is happening.” 

The alternative is simple too – we keep our day jobs and write all the damn bowling scenes we want to.  Life is to short to let someone else dictate our demons.  As my computer generated horoscope said: “You need to face your fear of the world’s criticism, and your tendency to sabotage your creative efforts out of a deep need to be approved of by society.”

Feel free to borrow that bit of advice whenever you want to.

Secondhand Lions: a movie review

“If you want to believe in something, believe in it. Doesn’t matter if it isn’t true.  You believe in it anyway.” Hub McCann (Robert Duvall) in Secondhand Lions

The recent death of country music star George Jones, reminded me of Robert Duvall’s Oscar winning performance in Tender Mercies (1983), the story of an alcoholic country singer who finds redemption with the help of a woman, as Jones did toward the end of his life.

The truth is, I never much cared for Jone’s music, but Robert Duvall is one of my favorite actors.  I started thinking of Secondhand Lions (2003) which also stars Duvall and is one of funniest and most satisfying movies I’ve ever seen.  I have the DVD and watched it again yesterday.  Now I’m wondering why it took me so long to write a review.

*** Spoiler Alert ***

It’s the summer of 1962 when Walter Caldwell, on the cusp of adolescence, is dumped by his irresponsible mother, Mae, at the remote Texas ranch of his two great uncles, Hub (Robert Duvall) and Garth McCann (Michael Caine).

secondhandlions - mom

“The last thing we need is some little sissy boy hanging around all summer,” Garth tells Mae.  Hearing this, Walter’s misery is palpable.  The first part of the movie shows how the trio eventually bonds.

The McCann brothers are rumored to have a hidden fortune, which brings a stream of salesmen and conniving relatives to their door. Hub and Garth spend their days shooting at salesmen, until Walter suggests they listen to one to see what he’s selling.

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After listening to a seed salesmen, the trio plants a garden, only to learn they’ve been duped and sold nothing but corn seed.  The result is a huge cornfield they never really wanted.  The uncles also order a lion from a circus supply dealer.  They plan to hunt and kill it to hang its head over the fireplace, though Walter reminds them they don’t have a fireplace.  The lion turns out to be an aged female who is too sick to crawl out of her crate.  It wouldn’t be sporting to shoot her, Garth observes.

Secondhand lions - lion

Walter names the lion Jasmine, after a mysterious woman whose fading photo he finds in an attic trunk.  He nurses Jasmine back to health, and she takes up residence in the cornfield, the closest thing to a jungle in west Texas.  The lioness proves her worth by scaring away a family of greedy relatives, who campaign to have Walter shipped to an orphanage.

The movie would be pleasant enough – and forgettable enough – if it simply dealt with two lonely old men and a fatherless boy filling a void in each other’s lives, but deeper themes comes into play, notably the tension between ideals and what’s real, between story and truth and memory.

At the time Walter found the photo of Jasmine, he spied Hub sleepwalking down to the pond each night, where he brandished a toilet plunger like a sword, challenging invisible enemies.  Garth begins a long story of Hub and Jasmine, that’s like something from the Arabian Nights or a Douglas Fairbanks movie.  Hub rescued Jasmine, a desert princess, from a rich sheik in the Sahara after the two brothers were shanghaied into the French Foreign Legion at the start of World War I.

Garth continues the story in several segments, and Walter finally persuades his uncle Hub to finish it.  He tells Walter how he ran off with Jasmine.  How her jilted suitor, the sheik, sent assassins after the pair until Hub tricked him out of a hundred pounds of gold and defeated him in a duel.  Jasmine died in childbirth a few years later , and Hub never loved another woman.

Just then Walter’s mother returns in the dead of night with her latest boyfriend who claims to be a detective on the trail of the McCann brothers, a pair of infamous bank robbers who left an accomplice named Jasmine to die by the side of the road after she was wounded during a robbery.  When Walter challenges the story, the “detective” hits him.  His time with the uncles has changed Walter, who fights back, and with the last of her strength, Jasmine the lion, rushes to defend her “cub.”

Jasmine’s heart gives out in the struggle – “She died with her boots on,” says Garth.  Mae still wants Walter to come with her, but he’s learning to stand up for himself.  “I want to stay here,” he says.  “For once in your life, do something for me.”

Seventeen years later, Walter is a successful cartoonist, who draws a strip called “Walter and Jasmine,” the adventures of a boy and his lion.  The sheriff calls with bad news – his uncles, both 90 years old, have died in a hair-brained accident – with their boots on.  Walter both weeps and laughs when he learns the details.  The sheriff hands Walter the brothers will, which reads, “The kid gets it all.  Just plant us in the damn garden, next to the stupid lion.”

In the final scene, an oil company helicopter lands, and the son of the sheik from Jasmine’s story steps out.  “I was in Houston on business when I read the news,” he says.  “My father always talked about your uncles.  He called them his most worthy opponents, but I thought they were only stories.  So they really lived?”

“Yeah,” says Walter.  “They really lived.

There are many levels to this seemingly simple movie.  On one hand, some of the antics are hilarious.  It’s also a sensitive coming of age tale.  With the notable exception of Harry Potter, most such stories and movies over the last decade have centered on girls’ awakening.  Unlike Potter, however, Secondhand Lions reflects some of the features we know belonged to classic men’s initiation rites, such as “leaving the house of the mothers to join the fathers.”

But finally, what makes this movie great, and of universal interest to me, is its take on what is real and valuable in the stories we tell.  As Hub says to Walter:

“Sometimes, the things that may or may not be true are the things that a man needs to believe in the most: that people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power, mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil; and I want you to remember this, that love, true love, never dies.  You remember that, boy.  Doesn’t matter if they are true or not.  A man should believe in those things because those are the things worth believing in.”

A solid five stars for this movie.  I haven’t counted lately, but I’m sure it’s still up in my ten best for all time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-COMJckISVY